


A Dangerous Obsession

by alexandriakeating



Category: Labyrinth (1986)
Genre: Blood, Death, F/M, Murder, a bit dark, and what might have happened if he acted on it to its extreme, exploring Jareth's obsessive nature, the dark side of perceived love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-08
Updated: 2014-06-11
Packaged: 2018-02-03 21:43:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1757733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexandriakeating/pseuds/alexandriakeating
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She was no longer an interesting mortal. She was no longer a trinket of amusement. She was his love. She was his waking nightmare. She was his obsession.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Obsession

**Author's Note:**

> This is inspired by G-Dragon's "She's Gone" and "Obsession/Nightmare". If you've never heard them, I suggest it. They are brilliant in a thriller sort of way. The MV for "She's Gone" started this whole thing. Lyrics of the songs are randomly interspersed throughout this story either as Jareth's thoughts, occasionally dialogue or descriptions.
> 
> This is first and foremost, horror. Romance is only through Jareth's perversion of thought.

She had bit it.

Her lips had gently brushed against the soft fuzz of the peach.

Her teeth had penetrated its succulent flesh.

Its sweet juice had dripped into her mouth and down her chin.

Everything was going perfectly.

He had ensured that it would.

There was no chance of slip up, nothing could go wrong, everything could go right. And everything  _would_ go right.

With practiced dignity, the Goblin King stood from his throne. His was the face of calmness and composure among the cacophony and raucous of his goblins. But inside. Oh, inside his slender frame surged a fierce passion that could not be measured.

Slow, deliberate, and trained steps brought him out of the chaotic room and down the hall to a tall, open window. With a flourish of his cape he sat on the ledge. A cool breeze caressed his face, but he paid no mind to it. The wind's seducing touch meant nothing to him. It was her touch he craved, and it was her touch he would receive.

A practiced gesture conjured four precious crystals in his leather clad hands.

Each one a perfected detail.

Each one so crucial.

The Goblin King let the last of the crystals slip from his fingers onto the gentle wind his breath had created. Her dreams were coming: delicate, intricate and perfect. A tight smirk curled his lips across his teeth. She would soon see. He laid it out so beautifully. A wonderful night. She couldn't deny her dreams. She couldn't deny  _him_ any longer. Those others meant nothing to her. Now, she couldn't help but see this simple truth that was so plain to him.

The malicious king stood from his perch on the window and hastily made his way to his chambers.

Perfect.

It had to be perfect.

He had planned it perfectly.

He had planned it so beautifully.

The possessed king threw his chamber doors open and stalked inside. A golden goblet sat on a small table near his bedside. He reached out a hand and roughly grabbed ahold of it. He brought the rim to his lips and allowed the burning, blood-red liquid to pass across his thin lips. The coarse liquid seared his throat as it travelled down. He usually had no taste for this goblin concoction, but today, it tasted so sweet.

Why did it taste so sweet?

The tormented Goblin King peeled off his outer wear drenched in the stench alcohol and slipped on a more appropriate outfit.

High, stiff collar.

Dark, royal blue.

Glittering jewels.

It was beautiful.

It was perfect.

She'd see.

She'd understand.

She was no longer an interesting mortal. She was no longer a trinket of amusement. She was his love. She was his waking nightmare. She was his obsession.

*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*

A smile curled his lips back as he watched her flit in and out of the bodies, searching.

Searching for  _him_.

A thrill of excitement and passion coursed through his body. She appeared to be a child that had lost her way. Confusion, panic, fascination flitting across her face as she observed the various party goers. Her attention occasionally captured by their fleeting masked faces.

A boiling anger surged through the king.

_No_ , he thought, _look only at me. I love it when you look only at me._

Her innocent eyes lightly land on him.  _Yes._

He stepped forward and wrapped her in his arms, holding her tight and swaying her to the music. A thrill once again swept through him.

Why had he allowed her to do this to him? This young girl, had grasped ahold of his heart and refused to let it go. Yet here she stood, with the audacity to run his Labyrinth, mingling with his subjects has if he was no more fun, as if she had replaced him.

His hand tightened its grasp on her waist, eliciting a small moan of pain from her lips. Her green, innocent eyes widened in surprise.

A feral growl rose in his chest. Heat coursed through his body.

What was she doing to him?

His head began to buzz. The edges of his vision blurred, singling her as the only visible entity.

_Damn, this girl,_  he thought.

The vehement king slowly became aware of the masked party goers, pressing in on them. Closing in, eager to see what would happen. But their looks of contempt, disdain and disappointed didn't go unnoticed by him.

_Don't curse me,_  he commanded them in his mind. _This is my obsession._

He refocused on her to find her eyes not on him. They flitted around the room, panic glazing the bright green orbs.

_Her eyes can't lie_ , he thought ruefully. He wasn't her fixation, her obsession.

This wouldn't do.

This couldn't do.

He had to be first.

He couldn't idly stand by her side. Could she not see the loneliness that cloaked him? Could she not see how stuck he was in it? Why was there no compassion in her eyes when she looked at him? Why were her eyes not looking at him?

She began to pull away from him, her subconscious bringing another he to the forefront of her mind. Her delicate hand slipped from his. The warmth of her tender body left his.

Panic and pain crashed over him, sending shock waves echoing through his body. He reached out a hand to her retreating figure.  _Just let me hold you once more. I wish you were my lover for just a moment._

Her horror and panic grew as she searched for a way to escape the dream.

The dream he had planned so beautifully.

_Please, please, please, I pray._

She grabbed ahold of a chair and poised herself to swing it at the fragile glass bubble that encased this beautiful dream.

_Us._

_Us._

_Us,_  he willed her to see.

_Together._

_Together._

He watched in horror as she let the chair fly forward.

And break the fragile glass.

Break the dream he had so beautifully planned.

Break the dream that was like a nightmare.

*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*

Her glistening tears burned the skin he hid under his gloves as he wiped them away from her truthful eyes.

"Please," came her strangled voice, "don't do this."

"It's only because I love you so much," he explained.

She had to see.

She would see.

"I want you for myself," he pleaded.

She had to see.

She would see it.

She just needed time.

The determined king checked the ropes once more, ensuring they were tight. Once content that they were he turned and left her slumped in a chair, her dress in shreds and dark hair tumbling over her face.

He had planned it so beautifully.

And she had ruined it.

She would understand.

_*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*_

_Don't run._

_Don't escape._


	2. Nightmare

_Don't run._

_Don't escape._

*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*

In the flickering candlelight, he watched her struggle, the ropes digging into her soft flesh. Her dark hair tumbled down her back in matted waves. Her white dress hung from her body torn, its cloudlike sleeves no longer present. The white stained red and black.

Her glistening green eyes turned to him, fear watering them.

She had to understand.

The deranged king stepped up to her, kneeling on the hard cobblestone. Oblivious to the rock shards gouging into his flesh, he lifted a black gloved hand to her pale face. He gently stroked her cheek.

"My only sin was loving you," he explained in a husky whisper. "I did everything you asked me to do."

Her full pink lips parted slightly in a silent plea. Dark passion surged through him and he captured her soft, pliable lips in his firm, demanding ones.

She groaned and tried to pull away.

He growled in response and twisted the long fingers of a gloved hand in her dark hair, arching her head back. He pushed her legs apart and pressed his body against hers amongst the folds of fabric. She moaned in pain as his lips ravished and bruised hers sending him deeper into his frenzy.

He bit and sucked and tore at her lips.

And her jaw.

And her neck.

Her shoulders.

Her collarbone.

Her flesh was so soft and sweet.

So perfect.

So beautiful.

He pulled back from her tantalizing flesh, his eyes burning darkly. His gaze fell on his doings.

Her swelling lips.

The cream skin, her beautiful cream skin, stained red and purple.

_Oh God._

"I'm sorry," he whispered as she let out a whimper.

As she trembled beneath him, the horror of his actions melted away.

She was there.

With him.

So wonderfully warm.

Pressed so close.

The night wasn't lonely.

He lifted the hand that wasn't tangled in her hair and ran it down her cheek, shushing her whimpers. He traced her jaw and slowly moved his hand down her neck, across her shoulders, brushing her collarbone and the raised platform of her breasts that swelled over the confines of the dress. As his fingers grazed across her rapidly rising and falling breasts, dark desire returned and he pressed his lips to the soft flesh.

She gasped, her heartbeat racing.

Faster.

Faster.

His lips pressed harder, thrilling in the fluttering heartbeat. His body closed in, shrinking the space between them. Molding her soft body to his firm one.

He flicked his tongue out, tasting her sweet flesh. He ran it across her exposed skin, making his way slowly back to her neck. His nose brushed against her earlobe. He tilted his chin slightly and opened his mouth, capturing the tender piece of flesh between his teeth.

The dark hair beauty took in a sharp breath, pushing herself wonderfully against him.

He ran his tongue over the flesh before regretfully letting it go. He brushed his lips against her ear and whispered tenderly, "I'm happy we're together."

His lips danced across her jaw.

"Don't worry anymore."

His lips caressed her cheek before hovering over hers.

"I'll stay by your side and protect you forever."

He brought his lips firmly down on hers, crushing them. He softened and coaxed but they refused to move. He pried and tore but they refused to move.

The angered king pulled his lips from hers and looked into green eyes sparkling with defiance.

He turned from those burning eyes and stood up, her warmth leaving his body. He stood in the dark room, shrouded in coldness and loneliness.

"I'm serious," he whispered harshly. Turning back to her with passion blazing in his mismatched eyes, he yelled, "I'm attached to you!"

"Y-you're insane," she choked out from swollen lips.

_No._

_No._

_He loved her._

_She was his obsession._

_He wasn't insane._

_His only sin was loving her._

_No._

_No._

With a cry of anguish, he stepped forward and threw his hand at her face. Her head arched backwards from the force of the blow. As she stared at the dark ceiling above her, the furious king growled, "I did everything you asked me to, and now you say what?!"

Her answer was mocking silence. He reached out a leather clad hand and seized her chin, jerking her head down. When she looked back at him, her cheek was deformed with red and purple splotches.

His hear sunk at the imperfection on her beautiful face.

This perfect dream was becoming a nightmare.

A nightmare.

A nightmare.

No.

He had planned it perfectly.

He had planned it beautifully.

And she, she had ruined it.

He looked down at his coat.

High, stiff collar.

Dark, royal blue.

Glittering jewels.

It was beautiful.

It was perfect.

Why couldn't she see?

Why couldn't she understand?

He did it all for her.

He was exhausted.

But she didn't care.

She had ruined it.

He conjured a crystal on his fingertips and broke it at his feet, transporting himself back to the shattered dream. The revelers lay strewn on the shattered glass, bloodied and broken. The pure white dream stained from their death. He had prepared it so beautifully for her. And now—

_Now, it doesn't look happy_.

The dream was like a nightmare.

With a roar, he clawed at the coat that still cloaked his body.

_Ruined._

He would ruin it.

Just as she had ruined everything else.

As the coat fell in shreds around him, he tore off the cravat that was laced artfully around his neck.

_Nothing perfect._

_Nothing beautiful._

With another crystal, he conjured a black cloak, shredded and frayed at the ends. He tied it around his neck.

_Imperfect._

_Hideous._

With his wild hair darkening from its sunlight shade to one of nightmares and eyes blazing with deadly passion, he transported himself back to the small room that held her.

His love.

His obsession.

The one who destroyed everything.

She would learn.

She would understand.

She would be his.

As he stepped into the dark room, the shadows deepened by the dying candle, his eyes fell on the empty chair. The ropes gathered in a pile around it, no longer useful.

Shock.

Fear.

Pain.

Hatred.

In a few long strides he reached the chair. He snatched the offending object and threw it against the stone wall taking pride in the shattered pieces of wood that littered the floor.

He stormed out of the room into his Labyrinth. The sky above darkened and thick thunder clouds rolled in threatening to release themselves on the parched land below. The air was thick, heavy with portent. White lightening seared across the sky.

The Labyrinth, sensing its king's dark mood, shifted to match him. High walls of sharp stone. Brown and withering vines clawing out of the dead ground searching for life.

His mismatched eyes scanned the passageways presented before him. The walls shifted and he caught sight of a tattered and muddied white dress disappearing around a corner. With a humorless smile, he stalked after her.

He conjured a dark crystal and let it dance across his fingers. He summoned her in its depths. Her panic face appeared. Eyes wide and fear. Bruised and bloodied swollen lips parted in heavy breathing. Chest heaving.

Desire and passion surged through him. "I don't want to believe that you've left," he murmured to the figure in the crystal's bowels. "You're just like a child that's lost their way."

His feet hit something not a part of his Labyrinth and it tumbled with high pitched clinks. He glanced down, the bruised beauty in the crystal momentarily forgotten, and his eyes fell upon a pair of discarded heels.

Beautiful heels.

Perfect heels.

She had ruined it.

He had given her everything, her dreams.

And she had ruined it.

Anger surged through his veins and with a flick of the wrist the crystal turned into a simple dagger.

She had to learn.

She had to understand.

What she ruined.

What she lost.

He loved her.

It only made sense that he had to teach her.

With renewed vigor and passion, he continued down the passage with determined steps.

Her slim form always elusive.

Dashing around another turn.

Flitting out of sight the moment he appeared.

She took a sharp turn, doubling back.

He smirked.

_Foolish._

_As if I didn't know my own Labyrinth._

Letting her continue her foolish belief, he continued down the passageway straight before him. With his will the Labyrinth shifted, and he saw her shivering form ahead of him.

His lips curled over his teeth as a tumult of wonderfully thrilling and powerful passions and desires coursed through his veins, his blood hot with it.

She hesitantly approached the end of the passage. She reached out trembling hands and grasped the edge of the wall. Cautiously peering over the side, she was oblivious to his quiet footfalls.

He pressed up behind her and wrapped a gloved hand over her mouth and wrapped his other arm around her waist. He pulled her flailing body away from the turn. He spun her around to face him, her green eyes wide in horror.

She had to learn.

She had to understand.

She had ruined it.

He withdrew his arm from around her waist, tightening his grip on the dagger in his hand. Silently, he slipped it between her ribs.

He felt her gasp against his hand; her warm breath stirred his heart. Releasing her mouth, he once again ensnared her waist and pulled her deep into him, and the dagger.

He consumed her lips in his as a fiery passion burned in his breast.

The possessed king felt her slipping.

Further away.

He heard her strangled gasps for air.

_Forgive me._

_You had to learn._

_You had to understand._

Her body slid from his grasp and off the knife. Her small form crumbled onto the Labyrinth floor. Her green eyes stared on glassy. Her lips parted in a silent plea or invitation. Her breasts stilled. Her white dress turning crimson.

The dagger fell from his limp fingers as he collapsed opposite her. He pushed his back against the harsh outcropping of the stone wall, his breathing ragged.

_*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*_

_I'm sorry._

_You have to give me a chance to apologize, right?_

_Don't you think I would feel guilty?_


	3. She's Gone

_I'm sorry._

_You have to give me a chance to apologize, right?_

_Don't you think I would feel guilty?_

*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*

The Labyrinth lay in silence.

In stillness.

In horror.

The only sound that could be heard was the ragged, uneven, gasping breaths of the overwrought king. He turned his eyes away from the still figure lying across from him and focused them on his white shirt and pale chest now stained red with her blood.

_Oh God._

_Her blood._

It was her blood that covered him in its sticky, damp embrace while it slowly dried and pulled his skin tight.

His eyes darted to the red encrusted dagger that lay innocently next to his leg. He reached out a hand for the offending object but recoiled in disgust. His black glove was dyed with her blood as well. In a fury, he ripped it and its twin from his skin leaving his hands bare, pale white and fresh.

The skin on his hands so white, so pure.

So perfect.

So beautiful.

He raised his eyes back to the still figure. Her green eyes stared glassily back, accusing him of what he had done.

"You ruined it," he whispered hoarsely.

_You had to learn._

_You had to understand._

He smirked at his success.

_Now you do._

He watched her, eyeing her with expectancy. Waiting for her to get up. Waiting for her to smile. Waiting for her to be  _his._  His love. His obsession.

Yet as he watched her, she eyed him back emotionlessly. Not getting up. Not smiling. Not becoming his. Not his love. Mocking his obsession.

He leaned forward, drawing his knees to rest on the ground underneath him. He stretched out a pale hand and traced her body, trying to coax her to move, to end the charade. Lifting a thin, lithe finger, the hesitant king brushed the contours of her face, hovering over her lips parted just to tantalize him.

No response.

He dragged the thin, lithe finger down her neck and between her breasts until he reached the neckline of the dress.

No response.

He frowned. He danced the thin, lithe fingers of a gloveless hand across the swell of her breasts, pressing wonderfully against the soft, yielding flesh.

No response.

He lifted a hand and grasped her chin, jerking her to look at him. Her face met his but her green eyes were distant. Her lips slack.

A cold hand seized his heart. He licked his dry lips. His breath came in heaving pants. "Please," he willed her.

No response.

"Please, smile," he implored her.

No response.

"You're prettiest when smiling," he begged her past the firm lump in his throat.

No response.

The pain, the agony that clawed at his heart.

The fire that burned in his eyes.

"Please," he whispered as he leaned forward, pressing his lips gently to hers.

No response.

He pressed harder, firmer, tearing at her lips, panic building in his heart.

No response.

He ran his tongue deftly across her lips, across her jaw, across her collarbone.

No response.

Desperately, he raked his lips, his tongue, his teeth across her breasts.

No response.

He wretched himself away from her still body, panting, his chest heaving as hers had only moments ago.

_No._

_This isn't right._

_Please._

_Please._

_Please, I pray._

_If this is all a joke—_

_If someone would just wake me up—_

Small, wet trails slowly blazed their way down his contorted face, blurring the frozen beauty before him. He lifted a gloveless hand tentatively to his cheek. He pulled it away and observed droplets of water resting gently on the tips of his fingers. He brought his fingers to his mouth and allowed the water droplets passage through his lips. They tasted of salt, of anguish.

"Tears," he muttered against his fingers.

"Crying?" he asked himself.

He lifted his eyes to blank green ones. "Why am I crying?" he asked their owner.

But she gave no answer.

He removed his hand from his mouth and tentatively caressed her soft, cold cheek. "You have no expression," he stated in wonder, fighting to still his trembling bottom lip.

The tumult of emotions the swept over his body was so new, so different, so torturous, but just as fierce, as strong, as true as the ones he knew so well when he used to caress her. His breathing became even more ragged.

Shallower.

Harder.

Closer to non-existent.

"If only I could hold you once more," he whispered fiercely.

Overcome with desperate desire, he gathered her into his arms and pulled her onto his lap. He buried his face into her dark air, relishing the scent that still lingered in it. "Us," he hissed through clenched teeth. "Us. Us. Us. Together. Together."

He pressed a shaky kiss into her dark hair, enjoying the thrill that coursed through his body as her smooth hair brushed against his sensitive lips.

_If only you were my lover for just a moment,_  he silently willed, hoping behind hope that the stiffening figure in his arms would loosen.

But she didn't.

She simply stiffened, hardened.

Her warm, soft, pliable flesh disappeared before him as he desperately clung to her small frame willing the process to reverse.

"What did you do wrong?" he demanded from her, but her response was once again mocking silence.

All she had given him was endless expectations.

And he had returned every one, fulfilling it to its fullest.

And she had ruined it.

Ruined the perfection.

Ruined the beauty.

Ruined him.

_This is what I became because of you._

_A sinner._

_Nothing but a sinner._

As he clutched her stiff and quiet form to his warm and heaving chest, his eyes fell on the crimson that painted the both of them.

A paint that was created by his hand.

Canvases that were stained by his hand.

By some possibility, it was done by his hand.

He buried his nose into the cold, unyielding skin of her shoulder and nestled in the crook of her neck.

_This was all my persistence._

_If only I had lessened my greed._

"I don't want to believe that you've left," he murmured against her skin. Taking a deep breath that shook his frame, he laid her stiff figure on the Labyrinth ground. Reaching out two fingers, he gently closed her glassy eyes.

With that small action, an abyss split into his heart. It was mirrored by white lightening searing the dark clouds above.

In the flash of light, the dagger glinted beautifully, like a precious jewel.

Tentatively, the broken king reached out a hand and grasped the cold hilt in his pale hand. He brought the distasteful object up to his eyes. Another flash of lightening illuminated the Labyrinth corridor and he snatched a brief glimpse of his reflection—wearied, broken and drawn taunt in sadness—in the speckled blade.

A white hot anguish cleaved his heart in two.

In desperate panic, he brought the cold flat edge of the dagger to his throbbing heart, attempting to sooth the pain. It brought little relief.

Blood pounded through his body, its rushing reverberating in his ears.

His blood inside.

Her blood outside.

Unconsciously, he tilted the knife until its point pricked his skin. Slowly, he drew it down, slicing a thin line down his chest. He turned the blade back to the flat side and ran the dagger up the bleeding line, mixing their blood.

"Together," he whispered firmly.

A piercing cry on the wind shattered the silence and drove itself into his ear drums. With a sigh he stood up.

He had a kingdom.

He had the Labyrinth.

He had the goblins.

And he had a babe to take care of.

Before disappearing into his calling life, he stooped and rested the dagger in her hands, wrapping them delicately around the hilt.

_This is thy sheath._

He pressed a brief, fleeting kiss to her resisting lips.

"My Sarah," he whispered against her lips before he stood up and walked down the corridor as it shifted to show his castle beyond the Goblin City.

_My Sarah._

_My love._

_My obsession._

_She's gone._

_I love you._

_*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*_

_If I'd knew I'd live like this—_

_As a sinner._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally posted on Fanfiction. I hope you enjoyed this short little story!  
> ~Alexandria Keating


End file.
